Friday, December 30, 2011

Muse Calliope Week 84: Cinderella Balls - Trinity Shade Part VI

Muse Calliope

Picture 1

Picture 2

Muse Calliope's Choice: Picture 2


Cinderella Balls - Trinity Shade Part VI

One minute Trinity was standing in front of Savannah in some sort of living room and the next she was sitting on her butt in the middle of a vacant parking lot, a thin layer of snow covering everything in sight. Croix stood beside her, towering over her with an amused grin that was just the teeniest bit smug. Trinity decided then and there she was going to get back at the brute come Hell or high water.

"Come, ma petite, do not glare at me so," Croix rumbled, a laugh trickling beneath his deep, deep voice. "Such travel can be...a surprise for those who've never done it before."

Trinity, in no mood to be polite, grunted and got to her feet, carefully brushing the snow off her pants as she did so. "So, where are we and why are we here?"

The beastkin's smile sharpened, his amusement evident. "Oh, we're in Ireland."

Trinity froze, positive she'd misheard. "Ireland? We … that's not possible."

"And yet, nous sommes ici."

"WHY?" Being in Ireland was bad - very bad - especially if you happened to be Fae and never got around to declaring your allegiance. To be fair, since Aoife was playing at being Queen and Fionnuala had vanished without a trace, declaring one's allegiance to the Winter Court was...difficult. Trinity had every intention of declaring her loyalty, thank you very much, just as soon as Fionnuala deigned to make an appearance and save them all from her stepmother's insanity. Tit-for-tat and all that.

"Because the mask ma reine seeks and which you have agreed to recover on her behalf is here."

Trinity should've taken her chances with the guards and gotten out of Prague on her own. Stupid survival instincts.

"Tonight," Croix informed me, "we have a, comment dites-vous, fact-finding mission; a ball."

"A ball," Trinity echoed.

"Oui, we must attend the Cinderella Ball."

It was official; Trinity never should have taken this stupid job. If she ever managed to get out of this mess alive she was never, ever going to take another job that had anything to do with Prague.

"The Cinderella Ball? As in the ball Aoife throws every year? THAT Cinderella Ball?"

"Yes, that one."

If Trinity had been of the fainting persuasion she would have done so right then and there. "Why in the name of all the gods would I go anywhere near that ball? Near that witch? Did I happen to mention that I'm undeclared? Aoife gets one whiff of me and it's off with my head."

Croix chuckled, completely unaffected by Trinity's mounting panic. "Je pense que vous avez mélangé vos histoires." He paused, thought, then sighed. "Pardonnez-moi, ma petite; I lapse. What I said was that I think you mix up your stories. The head chopping is in Alice in Wonderland, this is Cinderella."

Trinity huffed and cast a baleful gaze on the beastkin. "And what, pray tell, does that mean?"

Croix grinned. "Well, ma petite, it means that you are about to be given a beautiful gown and glass slippers to wear. It means that you are about to have your hair styled and face painted. It means that once you are made ready I will collect you and escort back here where we will -"

"Ride a former pumpkin-turned-carriage to the ball?" Trinity interrupted.

"Don't be absurd," Croix chastised, sounding genuinely affronted. Weird. "We'll be riding that." He gestured with one hand to something behind Trinity.

Sighing, she turned and promptly lost her ability to breathe. The first thing she noticed was the horses. Slender, graceful animals, they were a pure, snowy white with silver manes, tails and hooves, that last peeking out from a feathery fringe of fur. Their eyes were ice blue from lid to lid, which Trinity found just plain eerie. All in all, they were practically ethereal and Trinity would swear they glowed with a soft silvery light.

Delicate thread-like silver chains harnessed the four beasts to the most stunning carriage Trinity had ever seen. If she didn't know any better, she'd have said it was carved from ice. It was like someone had take the world's largest, most intricate Christmas tree bulb and placed it atop a slim wagon. With unbelievable detail carved on its exterior, the fragile carriage boasted two seats - one on either side - and was crowned by a complex snowflake. The whole affair was transparent with the shimmering, wet look one normally only saw from sunlit ice, and breathtakingly gorgeous.

At that moment, Trinity knew without a doubt that she was completely, utterly and irrevocably screwed.

Three hundred fucking years old - she really should have known better that to jinx herself.

A/N: To be continued soon!